


It's Raining Men, Hallelujah!

by warmsummerbreeze



Category: Greg Lestrade - Fandom, Mycroft Holmes - Fandom, Mystrade - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy, Happy, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, just so much fluff, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmsummerbreeze/pseuds/warmsummerbreeze
Summary: Snippets of Mycroft and Greg's life during rain. In which they are happy and a little angry but there is always love. So in love. The title probably isn't fitting for this but I just thought it was so funny. I suck at summaries but I think this is worth a read if you want sweet Mystrade :)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade, Mystrade - Fandom - Relationship, Mystrade - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	It's Raining Men, Hallelujah!

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this during class so I decided to post anyway bc its fluff and lovely and I needed something sweet in between the longer fic I'm writing. I hope y'all like it!

The entirety of that particular Tuesday, the weather kept toying with the idea of rain. To rain or not to rain. The sun hid behind murky clouds which indicated the possibility of a shower, but then didn’t. It was sticky and humid outside as Greg busied himself with a case. Sherlock had refused to give it his attention given it was far too easy and even Greg’s  _ incompente self,  _ as he had put it, could solve it. 

The sun, who had only made its appearance a handful of times throughout the day, was now resting from its laborious task of filling the world with light. The moon, instead, dimly illuminated the London night in its absence. Just then, it began. The ever so light rain drops began to fall, drizzling down upon the earth so delicately, their presence was almost hard to perceive. 

That, however, didn’t last long. Soon enough, as if the clouds had been restraining themselves for the whole day, the downpour began. Delicate raindrops morphed into large drops which hit the ground aggressively. Greg’s team scrambled for rain ponchos and equipment to protect the scene from the invading water. 

Greg hated days like this. In his line of work, rain was not very welcomed. It washed away evidence and soaked everyone and everything thoroughly. Sighing, Greg began to drape plastic covers over the bodies he had been examining, no use in continuing the investigation in the pouring rain. 

Pouring it was. Greg was dripping wet, his wool coat no match for the invading moisture of the heavy raindrops. He tried pulling the lapels to shield part of his face, but it was no use. He should really purchase an umbrella. 

Just then, the hammering drops stopped from above him and he heard the pitter patter of the rain against a sturdy shield hovering over him as he crouched down on the pavement. He sensed a familiar scent and warmth from above him and smiled as he got up and turned to face his lover. 

Mycroft stood there smiling back, holding his umbrella over the both of them, cocooning them into a pocket of dry comfort blocking out the rain. 

“Hello love,” Greg murmured nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck, absorbing his body heat, and placed a soft kiss on the junction between his neck and collarbone. Mycroft hummed happily in approval and wrapped a protective arm around the detective inspector’s waist. 

“Good evening, dearest,” Mycroft responded softly into Greg’s soaked hair. “Quite the downpour hmm?”

He felt Greg nod against his chest, “Sure is”, he said shivering a little, “Can’t work on the case anymore” Greg gestured to the scene with a nod, it’d been covered in plastic sheets now and most the team had cleared the site, leaving it with the yellow tape to protect it. 

“In that case,” Mycroft murmured, stroking Greg’s back. His hand had snuck under his coat where it was warm and dry, “Let’s get you home, you’re dripping wet and cold.”

Gregory groaned as Mycroft detached his warm body from his, but held out his hand for his detective inspector to take. Greg interlaced his fingers with his and let himself be led to the black car that was waiting by the curb. 

They slid into the protective car, safe from the elements of the outside world. Greg shrugged off his soaking coat and cuddled closer to Mycroft in order to garner more of his body heat. They both watched as the raindrops raced down the window, trickling down swiftly. Mycroft toyed with Greg’s silver locks and pressed an occasional kiss or two on his forehead. Gregory had draped his arm around Mycroft’s middle and fondly circled his waist with his thumb. They often fell into this position. Showering each other with physical affection, gentle touches and comforting caresses. 

Their love language.

From the inside of the car, the sound of the harsh downpour was relaxing, a lullaby of nature that was soothing enough for the embraced lovers to close their eyes and drift a bit. Mycroft hummed gently as the rain pitter pattered softly outside. They were safe in their bubble. 

Once home, Greg quickly stripped of his soaking clothing as another wave of violent shivers wrecked through his body. Mycroft was in the bathroom, doing the same whilst starting a warm bath for them to share. Afterall, it was too cold outside for anything else. 

When Gregory entered the bathroom, Mycroft was already stepping into the warm water, bubbles adorning the surface of their large bathtub. He chuckled and stepped in, sitting opposite from Mycroft and leaning his bare back against the smooth porcelain tub. Greg sighed and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the water and his tub-sharing partner engulf him as he took in the perfume of lavender from the scented oils. They both let their muscles go limp in the relaxing nest of tangled legs and soft, pillowy bubbles. 

Greg’s soft voice broke the blissful silence they were sharing, eyeing a very relaxed Mycroft, “Funny that I went from wet in clothes to wet without clothes...how is that any better?” he let out a soft chuckle as he played with the water.

Mycroft still had his eyes closed as he responded, “There is a difference, that was cold and this is warm” he said, opening his eyes to gift his lover a warm smile, “Come here.”

Gregory slid through the water and rested his back against Mycroft’s chest. The elder Holmes let out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around Gregory’s torso and kissed his head. Greg let himself so limp, once more, in the embrace, letting his arms rest on top of Mycroft’s. 

“Tell me about your case,” the smooth voice of his lover resonated as Mycroft kissed the shell of Greg's ear.

“Well your brother called me incompetent again.”

Mycroft hummed and Gregory shifted so that his face rested against Mycroft’s chest, palm against his heart beat.

“I said about the case, not my irritating arch nemesis I must regretfully associate as my brother”

He felt Greg’s soft laugh vibrate against his chest.

“Murder. Some jealous sister had enough…”

And they went on about their night, on a peaceful rainy Tuesday.

\----------------------

Mycroft and Gregory were out in the country on a  _ very rare  _ weekend off. Gregory had demanded it, actually, and Mycroft had little choice but to comply given he had been quite busy as of late and spared scarce attention to their relationship. Gregory said it would be healthy for them, to breathe in some fresh air and get away from the chaos of the city, so Mycroft agreed.

Currently, the elder Holmes was sitting on the porch of their picturesque cottage. He rocked back and forth at a gentle rhythm on his rocking chair as he read his novel and sipped on the warm tea Gregory had prepared for them. 

Thinking of his Gregory, Mycroft glanced up from his book, eyes searching for the whereabouts of his beloved partner. His eyes fell upon his lean figure, stretching up to pick sweet, tart red apples from the orchard in the garden. Mycroft smiled and put his book down next to his tea, enjoying the sight of a perfectly contented Gregory calmly picking the apples and placing them down on a tea towel as he hummed a sweet, soothing tune. 

Mycroft rose from his chair and made his way down the porch steps. He strolled through the soft blankets of green grass. Sneaking up behind his lover, who was currently standing on his tippy toes to reach a rather high up apple. Mycroft reached from behind him, towering over Gregory and plucking the stubborn fruit from the tree. Greg whirled around in surprise and reached to take the apple from Mycroft’s hands, but his lover beat him to it and took a bite of the sweet, juicy apple instead. 

“Hey!” he heard the silver fox complain, “I’m saving these for my tart!” 

Mycroft ignored him with a smug smile, one hand in the pocket of his soft linen trousers and strutted back to his chair on the porch. He heard Gregory lightly trotting behind him to catch up, he caught Mycroft by the arm and turned the cheeky bastard around to face him. 

“Give me a bite,” he demanded, tugging the sleeves of the ginger’s shirt. In full compliance, Mycroft stretched out his apple and Greg took it, the apple making a nice crisp sound as he bit into it. 

“Mmmm,” Greg chewed, furrowing his brows as he nodded his head in approval, “Yes these will be perfect for the tart.” 

The sun was out, bright and powerful, shining down upon the earth and their small cottage. It was a beautiful day, the cool breeze delicately ruffled the branches of the trees and danced with the flowers in the garden. The stillness of the atmosphere was refreshing and comforting, a nice pause in the usual madness that filled their day to day lives. 

Greg returned to his apples and Mycroft was walking about the garden, watching for birds they wouldn’t otherwise be able to spot in the city. There was a shift in the wind, a sudden gust brushed past the garden. Out of the blue, Mycroft felt an ever so light droplet fall on his nose. He looked up, it was a mostly clear sky, the sun ever relenting and beaming down upon the garden. Slowly, more droplets began to fall. A sunshower. From the other side of the garden, he heard Greg yelp. He was quickly gathering the apples in his tea towel and making a dash for the porch. Mycroft chuckled and followed suit to shield himself from the rain. 

Once under the roof of the porch, Gregory placed the picked apples in a basket and turned to Mycroft, smiling brightly. Mycroft smiled back but with a slightly confused expression written on his features. He saw his lover point to something behind him and he turned. There on the murky but bright sky was a faint rainbow, arching over the landscape of vivid green grass and white daisies which adorned the meadow. Mycroft felt an arm wrap around his waist and a head lean against his shoulder. He returned the gesture and squeezed Greg’s shoulders closer to him, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“You’d best get started on that tart,” he murmured affectionately.

Greg simply hummed, his response muffled as he hid his face in Mycroft’s neck, “Five more minutes.” he felt Mycroft chuckle.

The elder Holmes looked at the rainbow, admiring it’s natural beauty. Soon enough, the shower had stopped, the gentle sounds of the beads of water hitting the soft grass slowed to a halt. The rhythmic rate at which they collided with the sturdy roof above their heads stopped, as the pearly drops now raced down the slope of their shelter and fell onto the blades of the grass. All that remained in the aftermath was the soothing smell of the wet earth and the sensation of a smoothing mist. It felt fresh and warm. 

Greg turned for the door, carrying the basket of apples in his arms and gestured for Mycroft to open the door for him. The pair slipped inside the cozy cottage and fell into a comforting silence as Mycroft peeled the, certainly too large, mountain of apples Gregory had picked and said apple-picker prepared the ingredients for his infamous apple tart.

And they went about their day, on a peaceful rainy Sunday.

\---------------

When Mycroft arrived home from his third international trip of the month, he found his lover leaning against the kitchen island, cradling in his hands a fresh cup of tea. He had a look on his face, a fierce one, eyebrows furrowed and eyes livid, Mycroft would’ve pounced on him in that very moment if he didn’t know better. Gregory was not in the mood for games. It was possibly close to 3:30 in the morning, he was working tomorrow, yet he was up, glaring at Mycroft. He was angry. 

“Oh Gregory, please, not this again,” was the first thing that slipped from Mycroft’s lips as he shrugged off his coat and placed down his umbrella and briefcase, “There’s not much I can do about it, my darling, I thought we’d covered that.” Mycroft himself was surely not in the mood for games either. He was worn out of having the same argument with Gregory. He just wanted to hold him in his arms for however much remained of the night and sleep. He’d missed him dearly.

“Mycroft,” Greg is still clutching his tea, lips pursed, “I thought we had agreed you needed time to rest. You’ve been working so much and I’m so exhausted from having a relationship with your assistant through text when all I want is you.”

“You do understand what you are asking of me, Gregory?” Mycroft’s voice expressed his frustration. Both men were growing increasingly irritated, it was too late and they were both far too wound up from stress to be having a discussion of such magnitude. 

“I’m asking you to relax a bit.”

“No, you are asking to put my job aside.”

“Well perhaps you should,” Greg bit back, stepping away from the counter and strutting closer to Mycroft, “A job isn’t everything Mycroft, you have a life you should lead.”

Mycroft scoffed and shifted his gaze, “I’m not having this discussion with you, Gregory, I’m tired of it. I’m  _ not  _ going to put my job aside for trivial reasons.”

“So your wellbeing is a  _ trivial  _ reason?” Greg pushed, voice quivering with annoyance.

Running a hand through his hair Mycroft responded, “The responsibility that I carry upon my shoulders is worth more than  _ anything.  _ My duty is to my-”

“Bullshit,” Greg snapped.

“You know what, Gregory?” Mycroft was far gone patience and diplomacy, “You’re one to talk with the job you have. You have the most trivial hours of work, constantly getting yourself into danger-”

“You’re constantly getting yourself into danger more than me!” Greg is seething, “And unlike you, I always make time and put effort into this sodding relationship-”

“The country needs me.”

“I need you!”, Gregory all but shouts pointing a finger at himself.

“Don’t be  _ selfish _ , Gregory,” Mycroft snarls, “My work, as you very well know, is integral to the wellbeing of everyone, including yours-”

“Mycroft if I can still make it back in time for  _ at the very least  _ some sleep before the next day of work, so can you.”

“Gregory, my work is of quite high status and importance; do not  _ compare  _ it with yours.”

Gregory falls silent from his place in the sitting room and hastily moves for the door, snatching his coat from the rack. He slams the door after himself and goes down the steps of the entrance of their shared home. Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s so tired. And he shouldn’t have said the things he did, Greg knows that. The last thing he should've done after Mycroft got home tired and stressed from a long trip was start a fight. He should’ve been more understanding, taken him into his arms instead and kissed the tension away from his drained features. He was an idiot. And selfish, as Mycroft had said himself. 

Looking up into the night, he saw the rain. It was crashing down onto the cold, hard pavement, unrelenting. He groaned and pulled the lapels of his coat to cover the sides of his face. He was going to have a walk to cool off after his exchange with Mycroft but had failed to notice the raging storm that was unfolding outside of their home. Nevertheless, he needed a walk, so he began trudging down the soaking sidewalk, feeling the heavy drops pounding against his back. 

Then they stopped. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn’t heard the door nor the heavy steps against the pavement as they approached from behind him. He hadn't heard the flicker and click of the umbrella being opened nor the drained voice calling out his name. But he felt. He felt the umbrella shielding him from the harshness of the thundering rain drops as they relentlessly tried to break through the sturdy plastic protection, but couldn’t.

Greg lifted his gaze, searching for the blue eyes of the man he loved. Because of course he loved him, he loved him so much it hurt. A love so intense it caused him to do stupid things like cause a row at 3 a.m. He sighed, eyes sad when he saw those of his partner, staring back at him reflecting the same sentiment.

“I’m sorry,” Greg said weakly, voice cracking, “I’m so so sorry, love. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did, it makes no sense to be so angry. I’ve just...I’ve just missed you so darn much and when I can’t talk to you it drives me mad. I’m just being selfish, I apologize, I should be better to you. You deserve better.” he ended his rambling with a hiccup and a sniffle from the cold. 

Mycroft was shaking his head at the speech. “No no, darling, I’m being selfish. For engrossing myself and forgetting about you like nothing. I’m sorry for leaving you out in the dark with no regard to how you might be feeling, I’ll try to be better I promise. I’ll have Anthea forward the messages to me.”

“It’s not necessary, Myc, I understand, I will be more accepting of it I promise.” The rain echoed around them as they stood huddled under the umbrella, warm brown eyes meeting vivid blue ones.

“Just because you understand it doesn’t mean you should have to put up with it. Let’s not go down this rabbit hole, it could go on for ages. I love you. I know you missed me, I missed you too, I should’ve messaged. I promise to do better next time. I didn’t mean to belittle your position, it was insensitive.” Mycroft said as he caressed Greg’s wet cheeks, “It’s not true. Your duty to the people is just as great as mine.”

“I love you too, Myc. I know your job is important, I know it tires you out and I didn’t mean to be another cause of stress in your life, love. You mean so much to me…” Greg broke off, snuggling his face into the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

“Then let’s not hurt each other anymore, my sweetness, we could both use some rest I can assure you. Let’s go inside.” Mycroft held out his hand, like he always did to his Gregory, and led him back inside the warmth of their house. 

Once inside the house again and their coats had been hung back on the rack and the umbrella leaned against the frame of the door, Mycroft was able to sag with relief. Greg pulled him into their bedroom and helped him get undressed and then redressed in his favorite silk pajamas. 

They crawled into bed and, under the safety of their warm covers, Greg massaged the knots out of Mycroft’s back and shoulders and of course his neck. His tense neck that supported the weight of the world and Mycroft’s  _ gorgeous brain _ as Gregory liked to call it. Tender, warm hands worked magic on the rigid and strained muscles which began to fall apart under his caring touch. Soft sighs of relief echoed from Mycroft’s parted lips until he melted into a puddle under Gregory’s embrace. And that is how he fell asleep, tangled in the arms of the man he would do anything for. 

And they went about their night, on a stormy rainy Thursday. 

\-------------

When Mycroft got home, Friday night, Gregory had already been in for 2 hours. Mycroft only assumed it was because it had started raining at a scene again and Gregory was forced to work on his paperwork, which he brought home. 

It was nearing dinner time and consequently, when he stepped through the door of their house, the aroma of a delicious dinner being prepared hit him delightfully. Surely his beloved detective inspector had purposely brought his paperwork home so that he would be able to multitask and make the new  _ coq au vin  _ recipe he’d been dying to try after Mrs. Holmes (Mummy) had shared it with him. Mycroft felt his heart leap because his partner was simply so lovely as to recreate one of his favorite childhood dishes just for him. Mycroft would never admit to Mummy that his lover made it better. Gregory was an excellent cook, though he shared his secret talent with no one but Mycroft. 

Gregory was sitting on his chair, in the living room, reading over some files and sipping red wine straight from the bottle. Completely immersed as he was furrowing his brows and gnawing at his bottom lip while clicking the pen he held in his hand. Mycroft approached him swiftly.

“Greetings, my sweet darling” He said cheerfully as he swept down and stole a kiss from an unsuspecting Gregory who hummed in response. 

“Good Evening, Mr. Holmes” He said, smirk plastered on his face, Mycroft huffed.

“Please, dear, I beg you not call me that. I hear that all day.” Mycroft almost,  _ almost,  _ whined like a child. Greg chuckled, shaking his head and putting his file down as he rose from his chair and pulled Mycroft close to him by his perfectly made tie. 

“My apologies, babe.” Gregory responded with a devilish smile, looking into Mycroft’s soft eyes. 

His lover groaned, “ _ Ugh,  _ quite pedestrian, Gregory”

Greg simply smiled and pulled Mycroft by the tie again into a soft kiss. “Alright, alright. I’m making your favorite, love” 

“Yes, it smells devine my dearest. I cannot wait.” the elder Holmes murmured bumping his nose softly with Gregory’s. “Rain got you home early today?”

“Oh yes. Still going quite hard outside, the cable’s out from the winds. Big storm out there.” Greg responded, running his hand over Mycroft’s chest. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you drinking that red  _ straight out of the bottle,  _ Gregory.”

Greg’s laugh erupted in the otherwise quiet room, “There was only a little left after I put it in the sauce!”

Mycroft picked up the bottle and took a sip himself before passing it back to Gregory. 

“Read with me here while the chicken cooks?” the detective inspector asked, dragging a lazy finger over Mycroft’s back. 

“Of course, darling”

So they both sat, Gregory cocooned against Mycroft, arm wrapped protectively against his middle and pressing soft kisses in the junction between his neck and collarbone. Mycroft had his arm around Greg’s waist holding him close and nuzzling his hair as he read his book and Gregory cradled his file. 

“You know who did it, don’t you?” Greg asked, looking up at his lover who had his eyes trained on his reading. Mycroft hummed in response but did not tear his eyes away from his novel. Greg pressed a kiss on his cheek and Mycroft turned to kiss him again, this time on those soft plush lips. 

“Don’t tell me,” Gregory said looking back down at the file. The soft sounds of the gentle rain outside filling their comfortable silence in a soothing way.

“I won’t”

“Oh.” Greg said, “It was the brother. Do you agree, darlin’?”

“Yes, I believe I do.” Mycroft murmured, “You’ve got that quite faster than probably all of your colleagues in the entirety of the Yard.”

“I guess I’m not as  _ incompetent  _ as Sherlock makes me out to be.”

“Course not,” Mycroft frowns and kisses his forehead, giving his hips a gentle, reassuring squeeze, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, my love.” 

“Maybe because I work with a Holmes and live with another,” He snorts, “Me and John ought to go have a beer together.”

Mycroft chuckles and pulls Gregory flush to his chest again. They shower each other with the affections of their love language as the sky showers the earth with rain. Soft, calm rain that hits their windows from the outside.

“Surely I’m more manageable than Sherlock, though?” Mycroft’s voice breaks the silence.

“Mycroft; Sherlock, I find tolerable. You...I love you. Big difference there, babe.”

“Not again with the  _ babe.” _

“Quit your whining.”

“I do not  _ whine,  _ Gregory.”

“Sure you do. Dinner will be ready soon.”

"I love you, too, darling"

And they went about their night, sharing dinner and wine and cuddling on the couch playing board games next to a toasty fireplace, on a rain Friday night.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, as always, you lovely people. I hope you enjoyed this little fic! ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
